The Side-Affects of Rouge
by dawnkiwi
Summary: I have eyesight problems. Which.. is more problematic than it may sound. Glasses won't help me. But I don't mind too much, I mean, sometimes it's entertaining and other times I wonder if the medication makes things better or worse. Seth/OC. Humorous. A light-hearted take on a problem Rouge deals with on a day-to-day basis. Not your average imprint story.


**Title: The Side-affects of Rouge**

**Featuring: Rouge Grimm; pronounced - row-jhe, as in rowing, and 'she'-d (shed).**

**and Seth Clearwater.**

**Summery: I have eyesight problems. Which.. is more problematic than it may sound. Glasses won't help me. But I don't mind too much, I mean, sometimes it's entertaining and other times I wonder if the medication makes things better or worse. Seth/OC.**

* * *

Chapter One: So That's How It's Going to Be

My name is Rouge Grimm, I am half German and half Quileute. I'm was born in Frankfurt, Germany, to Devrick Grimm and Estina Freeman. I grew up in Austin, Texas, and now I'm moving to La Push, Washington, because my mother can't handle me. I'm not entirely sure why because I've never gotten into trouble and I don't do drugs.

It may, though, be the fact that I have eyesight problems. Which.. is more problematic than it may sound. Glasses won't help me. Instead, I have a special medication that I _have_ to take, which is called Penserhydracitine.

I think what my mom should have said is that she can't handle the Penser.

Instead she said, _"Red, darling, I'm sorry but this just.. this isn't suitable. I think, maybe it would be best if you weren't here, in Austin, anymore.."_ There was a silence in which I stared at her and then; _"I just cannot handle you. It's too much for one person to deal with. You're too much to have to come home to. You'll be better off with your grandpa in La Push._"

That, folks, is an 'Ouch' with a capital 'O'.

I cried, I'll admit, because it's cruel to say that to your only daughter, but also, because I'd be separated from my only and best friend, Alis Dodgson.

And right now I'm walking off the bus at Port Angeles and hey, there's grandpa. He looks so _old_ no-

"Red!" my grandfather, Wilson, cried, pulling me into a hug that made it damn well sure that I could smell his old manliness, the pine from the forest around his house and the smell of his golden retriever, Yabby.

Grandpa's taller than me, which isn't too hard to achieve because I'm only 5"6, and I was face flush to his old sweater.

"Sweet pea, how've you been?" he asked gruffly, kissing my cheek and making my nose crinkle as his whiskers (re: he didn't shave, for those of you who are silly) brushed against my clear skin.

Oh my, I think he's crying.

I smiled at him. "Hey grandpa," I said, detangling myself from him, "I've been okay. How are you? And Yabby?"

He dabbed at his eyes with a faded, checkered handkerchief and calmed himself. Aw, he must have really missed me. No, stop looking, Red, it'll make you cry. I politely looked away as he gathered himself and almost squeaked in fright when he gathered me in another hug. He was warm and comforting, in the way only grandparents can be. My eyes however, lingered on a green dumpster across the street, that had a large polar bear digging through it.

It seems the bus ride was the only normal experience I'd had for a while.

He sighed when he was done. "I'm good, now, sweet pea," he said, smiling at me. We walked towards the luggage which was sitting outside the bus by now, as we talked. "Yabby's been all excited and I'm telling you, he knew you were on your way. I got your room all ready for you and it's in none of that pansy pink your mom likes."

The polar bear was still digging through the garbage, it's large shoulders heaving with each dig his paws made. This polar bear looks like a cartoon, if I'm honest. The last one looked malnourished and frankly, it was petrifying. That's Alis's eyes, not mine.

I grinned. "Alright! Hey, do you think I can put my posters up? I mean I brought them and all."

He ruffled my hair, like he used to when I was five, and picked up two of my suitcases. They are both deep red and awesome.

"You can do anything you like, Red, my home is yours. Just don't paint the walls pinks, that's an ugly colour."

Yeeesssssss.

There was a grunt from the polar bear, a sign it's not real because I wouldn't be able to hear it at this distance, and a chewed Coca-Cola can hit the pavement. Litter bug! I'm telling!

"I want you to know, sweet pea, I want you here and you're welcome to live the rest of your life in my log cabin. I don't care what your mom thinks, you're a doll and you know it."

"Aw, shucks. Stop, you're making me blush." I said, chuckling as we walked towards his Jeep. He merely grinned at me and opened the back door, throwing my suitcases in. I followed him and walked around to the passanger seat, pulling myself up into the Jeep and looked around. It literally looked exactly the same as it had when I visited him during the summer, two years ago.

The drivers seat door opened and grandpa hopped up into the seat, flashing me a gummy smile and turned the ignition. He's so happy it hurts.

While grandpa drove, we took the opportunity to catch up. He didn't have all that much to tell me about his own life, having been only himself and Yabby since granny died five years ago. From his voice I could tell it still hurts him to think about it and he misses her dearly, but it's better than when he was a wreck after her death. I don't think I could handle that, let only could he himself.

It began to rain, so grandpa flicked the windscreen wipers to life and the one in front of me leapt up, a big pink snake, and it turned it's bulbous head, flicking an orange tongue at me. It hissed, even though I shouldn't be able to hear it over the rain, and began to snake up the window, disappearing over the roof.

Grandpa didn't notice my expression, which was of disbelief. I jumped in my seat when it appeared but I'm pretty solid at controlling my reactions to the funnier (re: stupid medication) side of life after all these years. Closing my mouth, I rolled my shoulders and accepted the fact that there is a windscreen wiper going about its business in front of me and I can't see it.

Grandpa's right. Pink is an ugly colour.

* * *

Yabby smells like wet dog for the sole reason that he _is_ one.

He ran around my legs, large tail wagging as he sniffed and barked his way about.

Grandpa laughed.

A leprechaun danced on top of my pet cactus, sat on the window sill, to the beat of the rain on the roof.

My lips pursed as I turned back to tacking my Call of Duty poster on the wall. Modern Warfare 3 is best.

"So, Red, tell your grampy," grandpa began, his socked feet resting on Yabby's stomach, back against the wall, nestled on my bed. My grandfather is almost like 20 year old man in some of his mannerisms. You'd expect an eighty year old man to sit in an arm chair and be mindful of his back, but no, not Wilson Freeman.

"There a special lad who's stolen your heart?"

I blanched and tore the corner of my poster. Swearing, I tried to place the torn piece of poster back where it was supposed to be but I didn't have enough tacks. Shaking my head I let it flutter to floor, a piece of my heart going with it.

"No, grandpa, there isn't. I'm a lonely, lost little single pringle in a world full of Reese's*."

Grandpa chuckled. "You'll always have me, sweet pea."

"Yes, but I want someone to climb through my window and maim themselves on my cactus. You're getting a little old for that, dontcha think, gramps?"

"Oi!" he said, swatting me with my poster of Eminem. Leave off grandpa! That's premium pre-order merchandise! "I ain't old! I'm a prime piece of man-meat."

Oh good lord.

"Grandpa, stop!" I cried, "That's gross! Oh, ew, the hell is wrong with you?"

He started to cackle, which was inordinately funny because of the way the creases in his face folded, his whiskers and the heavy, low laughter he made.

"Don't try to tell me you're one of those nun girls, Red, I know what young people these days do," he wheezed, still laughing, "I'm not here to rule your life, you're 17, and a young woman. I just don't want any grandbabies soiling my furniture in the next few years."

"Grandpa!"

He continued to laugh, Yabby panting and wagging his tail as though he, too, were laughing and that damned leprechaun was grinned like a cheshire cat (re: again, Alis's kind of thing, not mine), pointing his stupid orange, hairy little finger at me. I'd snap it if he was real.

"**Grandbabies, grandbabies!**" It cried, jumping from foot to foot, twirling on the cactus.

Just one slip of it's feet and it'll be female, the cactus will see to that.

He sighed, wiping tears of laughter away, folding his arms to rest his hands on his stomach. "Ah, I'm just pulling your leg, sweet pea, don't you get too worked up. I'm serious though, I don't want no raging Esty on my doorstep screaming that I let you run wild."

Esty is short for Estina.

I rolled my eyes and pulled myself onto the old desk he had moved in for me. It was in front of the window, the cactus next to it, above my bed, and my bed touching the side of the desk. It was from the old La Push Normal School classrooms, back in 1902. It looked it, too. It's actually really cool.

"You won't need to worry about that, I have no intention of doing anything remotely strenuous," I said. At that, grandpa cracked up again, wheezing as he did, and Yabby yelped when grandpa accidentally kicked his man parts.

"Strenuous," he wheezed, face straining from the smile he couldn't get rid of. "Oh, darlin', you're a real chip off the old block. I'm going to love having you here. It gets so lonely sometimes."

Now that is sad.

"**Strenuous!**" the leprechaun screamed, making me jump.

"Jesus," I gasped, glaring at it.

Grandpa misunderstood me. He shook his head, "You know I'm not into that Anglican crap your mother force feeds you. There ain't no Jesus watching over me, I know that for sure."

I sighed. "I'm sorry you've been lonely, grandpa. If I'd have known, I'd have come down every holiday. I'd have even brought Alis with me!"

My grandpa loves Alis. He thinks she's a real 'riot' and has a strong sense of self. Something about being capable, but I think volatile or perhaps compulsive would be more accurate.

"That Alis is sure something," he said. "But no, don't you worry about me, sweet pea, I've made me self some friends in the last few years. Angie even met a few of them," he said. Angie, or Angela, was my grandmother. He smiled fondly. "She really approved of Sam. Speaking of Uley, we're going to a bonfire tonight. That's if you're up to it, that is."

He looked at me questioningly and I knew he wouldn't make me go, but I didn't want to hold him back from his friends. It would be interesting to see who my grandpa has been pestering the past few years. He can be really pushy when he wants. It's hilarious.

"Sure, sure," I said, swinging my legs, "But what about the rain?"

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it, it'll lighten up soon enough," he said, "You'll have a real good time, Red. It's being held by Sam Uley and his wife Emily, and lemme tell you, she makes the best food I've ever had. Second to Angie, that is."

I smiled because we both knew granny couldn't cook worth a damn, but her baking was heavenly.

"He thought it would be a real nice way to introduce you to some of the Rez, just a few people, and they're all people who hang out at Uley's house and occasionally here. Lovely people."

I hope he's being honest when he says just a few people, because last time he said 'small crowd' it turned out to be a Stevie Nicks concert with 30,000 people and my mother wasn't pleased.

"Awesome," I said, "Sounds great. I take it Sam's one of your friends?"

He nodded, "Uley is a good boy. 22 and married, and a real sense of right and wrong," then he leaned in, I don't know why because we're the only people here unless he can see the leprechaun, "But some people around here will say otherwise, and I don't want you to listen to them because not Sam or Emily or any of the youngin's they look out for are bad people. 'Sept maybe that Lahote kid, but he's just a temperamental brat."

I blinked. "Alright, ignore what people gossip about. Sounds like normal to me."

He grinned, flashing his teeth-less gums at me, and stood up, ruffling my hair again. I felt my lips purse for a second time.

"Ah, you're a good kid, Red, don't listen to anyone who says otherwise," he said, leaving the room.

As I made to stand up, it screamed louder this time, "**Otherwise!**" and I feel from the desk, with a swear.

* * *

Thankfully, grandpa hadn't lied. But he wasn't completely honest either. True to form, the rain had lessened and was kept at bay by a few ominously dark clouds hanging in the sky. A bonfire crackled in the darkness, throwing up bright orange and yellow flames and heating the entire area. It was massive, truth be told, and I almost couldn't see over it. Well, I couldn't, but I could see around it and to the 'few' people gathered.

Which turned out to be almost twenty people but that's what you get I guess.

When we got there grandpa introduced me to Sam Uley, who I learned was 6"7 after I blurted out he must be half-mountain lion, or something.

"Or something," he chuckled. I got the impression he wasn't really one for facial expression.

"This here is my beautiful granddaughter, Rouge," grandpa announced in a ridiculously loud voice. I sighed.

"Call me Red," I said, offering Sam my hand. He shook it approvingly. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," he said shortly. He seems.. well, unsocial, to be perfectly honest. I don't mind. I'm not a people person either. He seems alright, over all, pretty relaxed. Totally in love with his wife.

When I saw her scars, I'll admit, my eyes lingered for a moment, but it was purely because I wasn't sure if I was seeing right or if it was the darkness and my hallucinations. I felt, rather than saw, Sam's arm tighten around her, waiting for me to make a comment, and Emily's eyes lost their spark, but I think I surprised them.

"It's lovely to meet you," I said, smilling at her, genuine this time. She really does seem like a good person. "Grandpa told me you're the best cook he's ever met," I said.

"Second to Angie," grandpa added. I nodded with a laugh, "Second to Angie."

Emily relaxed and I think that's the only reason Sam did, but I didn't look at her scars twice after that and Sam seemed to accept I was just trying to tell if I was actually seeing right. I still feel bad.

After that, Emily took me to a table that had been set up near the where the grass meets the stones, because in La Push, stones equal sand, and told me to take as much food as I could eat and a little more to snack on afterwards because the boys are complete pigs. I thought she might be exaggerating but Sam was pretty big, so I didn't want to take my chances. Just as I was piling a plate with heavenly smelling food, roast pork, sausages, mashed potato, stuffing, some pumpkin to make it look like I eat healthy and some tuna-rolls, a pack of the tallest people I have ever seen burst from the tree line, laughing boisterously.

There must have been more than six, and as it turned out there were eight, and they were all at least a foot taller than me save for the only girl of them, who was still four inches taller than me.

As they got closer, it dawned upon me that they are all beautiful. Trust me, I _did_ notice not only Sam's ardently irritating beauty, strange as it was, and Emily's own beautiful gentleness, but these people are _hot_.

Alis might use the words _sexy, sexually exciting, red-hot, smoking, eye-candy, jaw-dropping _or my favourite, _gorgeous_ but at the time I was just stuck staring.

Emily giggled.

"Boys! This is Red, Red, this is Sam's little pack of misfits."

I love that show. Misfits.

I waved halfheartedly because it's a little intimidating when you're surrounded by freakishly good-looking people, and they all turned towards me. Put me on the spot then.

"This is," and I'm not sure which one is which, "Embry, Paul, Quill, Leah, Collin, Brady, Jacob and Seth."

I looked at each one and honestly, in the dark, it was a little difficult to tell the difference between the guys. They're all ripped like they're supposed to be on the cover of a magazine, including Leah, who looked like she could be rocking the whole 'don't fuck with me' model look, and I want to say they're all in their twenties but I really don't think they are.

They all mumbled their hellos, one of which was louder than the others, and everyone looked at him, including me. He turned scarlet. Poor guy. He cleared his throat. "Uh, s-sorry.. hi.."

I think his name is Seth, but it might have been Jacob. I'm just going with the order that Emily named them.

"Nice to meet you all," I said, and noticed that Seth was still staring at me. The pack of beauty dispersed, a few of the guys snicker and nudging Sethob, (re: I'll just go with Sethob until I figure out which one he is) and Emily smiled at me.

Okay.

Moving back to sit next to my grandpa, I handed him a plate and listened as he introduced me to Sue and Harry Clearwater.

They said hello and both seemed really nice, although Harry seemed a little off, uneasy or maybe he just didn't want to be there.

Sethob and Leah appeared at their sides.

My mind made the vague connection that they must be related.

"Red," grandpa said, "Have you met Seth and Leah?"

Seth it is then.

I nodded, "Yeah, Emily introduced us," I said, smiling at them. Leah didn't frown at me as she had been before, but she didn't smile either. I think she tried to but it came out as a grimace. Seth on the other hand beamed at me, blinding me with perfect teeth. What a bastard. Even braces don't give you that kind of perfection.

"Hey!" he exclaimed before anyone could say anything. Leah rolled her eyes. Sue and Harry shared a look.

Hello? Anyone?

"Hi," I said again. I this going to turn into one of those Hello, hi, hello, hi, hi, hi, things? I hate those things. I always end up in them.

"Red, honey, you're going to be starting at La Push Normal on Monday. Seth here is in the Junior class, same as you, he could show you around."

That would probably help me greatly. "Yeah, that's be great, if you don't mind," I added.

He nodded eagerly and came to sit next to me, two plates, each with twice as much as I had, on them. I stared at it for a moment before accepting it. Whatever.

I looked down and grabbed a tuna roll off my plate as Seth began to talk. I looked at him as I took a bite, but it was more like looking up at him.

"How tall are you? sorry," I said, interrupting. It would bug me if I didn't know.

He didn't seem to mind. "6"3," he said. Of course.

I nodded. "Cool, cool. Go on."

"So, do you like it in La Push?" he asked, not even touching a thing on his plate. It seemed surprising because honestly, if you have that much food, generally you just scarf it down without a second thought.

"Yeah, actually, it's really cool, temperature wise, but I miss Austin."

He nodded, actually processing every word, although I don't know how I know that. I grabbed another tuna roll, and froze when my hand grabbed something wet and moving. I looked down slowly, taking in the gold jellyfish that was floating above my plate before moving around it and grabbing a tuna roll.

I looked at Seth but it seemed he'd realized I'd had trouble with something.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brow furrowed.

I nodded. "Yep. Perfectly."

He didn't seem convinced but let it go. "So, why'd you leave Austin?"

Because my mother doesn't like the fact I can see the gremlins that steal socks and she can't.

"I have eyesight problems and it was difficult for my mother to handle," I eventually said.

He nodded, taking it in, and I realized he's sitting close enough that it's actually his body temperature warming me not the bonfire. That is not healthy.

The jellyfish floated upwards, using it's stupid little legs to dance about and hovered next to Seth's head. The urge to hit it is all consuming.

I sighed. It would be a long night.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Please leave a review because otherwise Rouge doesn't get her Penser and that would be a disaster. **

**P.S - Hey, hey anusface. Sorry, payneinbutt. Give me my sitch you eggroll. **

**Eckzoheckzoh**


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